Love Lockdown
by bandofthieves2
Summary: "We found love in a hopeless place." -Rihanna
1. The Warden

**Author's Note: Hi. Welcome to the story that got me back into the writing game. It was originally written with original characters, but I wanted to post it to this fandom, after leaving some of you hanging for so long. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, please read my other story "Whatever Will Be, Will Be". It's also a Paul/Bella, and I think you'll love it. If you don't care what I'm talking about, please read that anyway.) So to make it part of this fandom, I analyzed the characters I had written, and thought they fit best for Paul/Bella. Then I re-did what I had written to fit with the Twilight novels. This will not be all-human or completely alternate-universe, but that's all I'm giving away for now ;).**

**Sorry to repeat pairings (both of my stories posted are now P/B), but I hope you'll find them different enough to enjoy them both.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it! Anything you recognize belongs to Stephanie Meyer.**

I placed my cell phone, keys, spare change, and other metal objects into the small, plastic bin, before sliding it back over to the man who had yet to look up at me. My eyes bore into the top of his balding skull, challenging him to quit staring at that newspaper in front of me and meet my gaze. When he didn't, I let out a sigh of frustration. This would all change soon. All of it.

I made my way through the metal detector, hardly registering that it didn't go off. I knew it wouldn't. It's not like this is my first rodeo.

Reclaiming my belongings I made my way through the lobby to the door that read 'Authorized Personnel Only'. Stopping at the glass to the side of it, I saw another man watching a handheld TV set. I rolled my eyes—these guys have no clue what is headed their way.

Annoyed that he had yet to acknowledge my presence, I cleared my throat. The man lifted his head languidly, taking his sweet time to look into my eyes. When our eyes finally met, his flashed with recognition. Ah, so they have heard of me here.

"Oh. I'm so sorry M-."

"No worries," I replied, cutting him off. I'd deal with him later. For now, I had a couple thousand others I wanted to be introduced to first.

"I'd like to apologize again. I just—I'm not usually like this on the job," the man rambled nervously, hoping that he wouldn't be disciplined for his actions.

I just looked at him, lifting an eyebrow, and smirked when he looked down sheepishly. He had to know that I knew better than this. I wouldn't be in the position I am now if I didn't know how to read people.

"Uh," he stumbled, trying to get his thoughts together. "Identification please? I also need you to sign these papers."

I slipped him my license I had picked up, and signed the few pages he handed me. Then he handed me my badge, which I quickly clasped to the waistband of my slacks.

After quickly filing the pages, he looked back up at me. "Your office is-."

"I know where my office is. I've been here before, remember? This is my first day on the job, not my interview," I told him.

"Right," he smiled. "We're glad to have someone with your reputation here."

I nodded, knowing he was trying to kiss ass already. "Are you going to buzz me through today?"

"Oh, uh, of course!" He smiled uneasily, before turning a key and hitting a button.

The annoying buzzing sound that I had gotten used to hearing in the last few years filtered through my ears, and I watched as the 'Authorized Personnel Only' door opened.

I sent one last intimidating look at the man behind the glass, before making my way through the door. Most people would consider walking through this door hell, but I consider it home.

I headed down a numerous amount of hallways and more locked doors, which opened with a flash of my badge at a few more men behind glass, before finally making it to the reception area of my office.

"You're here!" My receptionist jumped up from her desk, way too quickly for someone at six o'clock in the morning.

"It is my first day," I responded snappily, before grimacing. I had to remember that I don't always have to be a hard ass here. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she waved it off quickly. "Rough start to the day?"

"Not really. I just never knew when taking this gig just how many people don't know how to do their jobs around here."

My receptionist—Kelly? Kim? Katie?—flinched, hoping I wasn't talking about her. I didn't make any move to reassure her. After all, I didn't know nearly enough about her or her work ethic to assess her performance yet. She shook herself out of her worry.

"So, what's first? Want to look over paperwork? Cases? Meetings? Meet the staff? Maybe you-."

"No," I interrupted her suggestions. "I think I'm going to have a talk with our residents."

"What?" She asked, her face showing nothing but surprise. "But Mr. Madison never did that. In fact, I think it's strongly advised against in most places-."

"There's a reason I got this job," I told her, cutting her off again. "I do things differently, but I do them effectively. It's time for me to meet them all. Let them know who is running this ship."

"But-."

"I believe arguing with what I say is against your job description," I told her, looking at her sternly.

She nodded, before sitting back down at her desk. "I'll call some people to go with you."

I nodded. I liked to believe I was scary on my own, but others didn't. Strength in numbers is always visually effective.

When my help arrived, we had brief introductions. They didn't seem to take me seriously, but they would soon. Either that or they'd be replaced. This wasn't a place where you could slack on the job, and I wasn't going to let it happen on my watch. People have to take me seriously, and the only way for them to do that is see me seriously through my actions. Words mean nothing, after all. I'd learned that from many life experiences.

We made our way through many more corridors and locked doors. When we got to the main security center, a couple of them seemed hesitant by what I wanted to do. I informed them that it wasn't their job to question me, but to do what I said. I think that introduction went well.

They buzzed me through a final door, and the cacophony of sounds hit my ears. It was loud, rowdy, and obviously smelled—but it wasn't anything I hadn't seen or dealt with before.

I walked through the doors with my chin up and head held high, exuding the power I know I had. Four men flanked me—two on each side. I walked right into the lion's den, and stopped in the middle of it. I waited until the door was locked shut behind me, and glanced to the security desk. I sent them an almost imperceptible nod, and didn't even flinch when a loud alarm sounded. The place immediately fell silent, and I felt a thousand pairs of eyes on me as I heard bars rattling with people leaning against them.

Clearing my throat, I used my full tone and heard my voice boom and echo against the concrete walls as I began my introduction and took the first step into my new life.

"My name is Bella Swan, and I'm your new warden."

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	2. Asserting Authority

**Author's Note: I'm seriously taken aback by the response to this story! I am one of those people who like the jail niche a little too much. I need to watch every Lockdown episode, Jail episode, Locked Up episode, Breakout Kings episode, Prison Break episode—it's unhealthy. Glad to see people seem to like it in story format!**

**Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, made this story a favorite, and/or put this story and/or me on alert. Thank you so much. It really made me get to writing faster! I am really excited for where this story is going to go, and I hope you enjoy the ride as much as me.**

**Please leave a review! I don't want to beg, but I love getting those e-mails. Even if you want to yell at me to update sooner, please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it! Anything you recognize belongs to Stephanie Meyer.**

"My name is Bella Swan, and I'm your new warden."

The roars of laughter, angry and confused voices, and the rattling of bars made me smirk. These boys weren't expecting their next warden be a 5'4" petite female. The prevalent sound was laughter, but I'd take care of that quickly.

Nodding back to the security desk, I signaled for them to sound the alarm again. The place quickly became quiet.

"Now if you'd get over your shock, I'd like to tell you a bit about myself," I announced to the general population.

"I'd like to see a little more of yourself," I heard a voice yell.

"You keep that up, you won't be seeing much of anything in segregation," I retorted. I'd been doing this long enough—I knew how to play the game. I could dish it as well as I could take it.

"Now, as I was saying. You guys heard about those reforms at San Quentin and Rikers?" These were two of the toughest prisons in the world.

The noise level skyrocketed again. Although the majority of these guys have been locked up for a while, gossip spreads like wildfire throughout prisons. With multiple transfers, new inmates, and visits, the prison system has its own form of a grapevine, and inmates know everything that is going on throughout the hardcore prison system.

"I take it you have," I chuckled loudly, my laughter only serving to irritate most of the inmates. The alarm sounded again, forcing them to quiet down. Seems people are already learning their jobs around here.

"Those were done by me. I was briefly warden at both of those prisons, before I decided I'd rather be a little closer to home, and you all get me here at Washington State Penitentiary," I informed them. "So, you can expect to see those types of reforms here. I don't take any shit and I don't give a fuck what the hell you throw at me, I'm here to do my job. On that note, I'm going to get to it. I'll see you boys later. Don't go anywhere!"

With those last words, I turned on my heel and walked out of gen pop, only allowing my grin to fully form when I was buzzed through the locked door and on the other side of a thousand enraged inmates. I probably should've resisted taunting them at the end there—I can hear their displeasure through the thick glass, and I can only imagine how loud it must be in there. Oh well. These guys committed the crimes; they need to be reminded of that once in a while.

I began the long and very well-secured journey back to my office, lost in my thoughts. Perhaps my view of criminals is too jaded, but if you walked in my shoes and if you have seen what I've seen, you'd feel the same way. I know somewhere deep down that there has to be a few innocent souls somewhere inside of these walls, but I have to squash those thoughts. If I believe that, if I even let myself start trying to find them, I won't be able to do my job effectively. I won't be able to be the best warden I can be.

It's hard to see any of these guys as good. I have a very long, dark, and upsetting past with the law and criminals, that I just can't let myself see any of these guys as anything but my father's killer.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was eighteen, and just finishing up my first year of living with my father. I moved back to Forks, Washington to live with him after my Mom remarried. I thought the newlyweds needed their space, and I wanted to give it to them. Besides, I had missed my father. After a year of living with him, in which I didn't really spend much time with him because I was dazzled with many issues in my personal life, I finally got my wits about me a little bit before my high school graduation. Dad and I were getting closer, and when I graduated from high school, he decided not to take me to the local diner, or even to Port Angeles, but he took me to the best Italian restaurant in Seattle.

We were halfway through the main course when gunfire rang out through the restaurant. At least Charlie, my Dad, knew was it was. He quickly pushed me under the table, before standing back up. I grabbed his arm and begged him to stay under there with me—he wasn't even armed. But he had to be the hero that I never knew he was, because I never really gave him the time of day.

I don't know what happened, because my view was blocked from that side of the restaurant, as I stayed hidden—praying the knowledge of me being safe would help my Dad. From what I was told later, Dad tried to talk the man down, who was angry at his ex-wife and brother for being on a date with each other. He had shot them both, and was contemplating shooting others in the restaurant since they had seen his face.

Sirens were heard outside the restaurant right when Dad was making progress, and it spooked the gunman. He shot my father, before running through the restaurant right by me, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his face. He darted through the kitchen door, and then out of the back entrance of the restaurant.

He was apprehended a block away, but I will never be able to get the image of his face out of my mind.

Plopping down at my new desk in my office, I continued my thoughts. A day didn't go by where I didn't think of that night, and I couldn't figure out why Dad didn't just take me to the diner which was his favorite place. Is it because of my cold words that one night where I repeated what Renee, my mother, had told him years ago? Is it because I made it sound like eating cobbler at the diner was my least favorite thing in the world?

It wasn't good enough for me that the man was caught and sentenced to life in prison for killing a police officer, and two others, though sadly I rarely thought of them. I wanted to see that life in prison wasn't comfortable for him. I didn't want him to be a big shot for killing an officer, getting whatever he wanted from other inmates, and being leader of the pack, so to speak. I didn't want guards to forget what that man did, and I didn't want them to allow him to live in the utmost comfort. Forgoing college, though I missed the deadlines to apply during senior year anyway, I immediately enlisted in the Police Academy, and somehow graduated with flying colors. I don't know what happened to the girl who was out-of-shape and klutzy, but I can only assume she died that day in the restaurant.

After graduating from the Police Academy, I debated following in my father's footsteps and becoming a police officer, but I couldn't stop my mind from running wild with the thoughts of how that man was living in prison. I became a correctional officer in Florida State Prison, leaving behind everything I knew in Washington, and everyone I had once known. It's not like I had friends anymore anyway. I pushed most of them away, and then some pushed me away. I decided to be closer to my Mom and Phil in Florida, even though my Mom vehemently disapproved of my new job. She didn't want me be involved in such a dangerous profession, especially after what happened to my Dad.

She never supported it, but my mother's disapproval wasn't going to stop me. I took self-defense classes, kick boxing, karate, and anything else I could fit into my downtime when I wasn't working. I had no social life, but it wasn't much of a change from life before Florida. Everything ended up paying off, as the Warden retired and recommended me to take his place. It was an extreme shock to everyone in the building, including me, but I couldn't turn it down.

I quickly made my name known throughout the prison system, as I fixed many of the problems that were wrong inside this prison. I was transferred to Rikers, as they thought my services and reform plans could be used inside of their gates. After fixing things there, I was transferred to San Quentin, where I did the same. Finally, I decided I'd had enough of running from my past and my problems, and I wanted to be face to face with the man who committed the heinous crime against my family. I always had an eye on Washington State Penitentiary, constantly hoping for a job opening. Even if it was as a correctional officer, I'd take it. Color me surprised when a few weeks ago the job as warden opened up.

I took it without a second thought, both wanting to be closer to the memory of my father, and wanting to confront the man who killed him.

I knew he was sitting somewhere in segregation right now, having been involved in a scuffle with another inmate in the yard. But I'd meet him eventually.

"Warden Swan," my receptionist pulled me away from my thoughts. I shook my head to clear them—I had a job to do. I looked up at her, and realized I really should learn her name.

"Yes, K…."

"Katie," She supplied.

"Katie," I affirmed, with a nod to my head. I should be nice to the girl. She had nothing to do with that night. "Please, call me Bella."

"I was just wondering if you'd like to see some of the files Warden. Maybe learn about some of the people here? Or maybe you'd like the get straight to paperwork. I know we have a few new inmates coming tomorrow and a couple of ours are transferring out," She rambled, clearly nervous.

I didn't want her to feel that way. I was a hard ass with the inmates, but I didn't need to be that way in the rest of my life. Although I shut everyone out and had very, very few friends, that didn't mean I was mean to everyone I came in contact with.

"That would be great Katie, thank you," I sent her a tiny smile, my cheek muscles straining with the foreign activity.

"Code Blue, we have a Code Blue in the yard of Cell Block A. I repeat, Code Blue."

The sound came over the walkie talkie stationed on my desk. I rolled my eyes before standing up, ready to make my way out to the scene of the crime.

"What are you doing?" Katie screeched, having guessed my intent.

"My job," I responded, heading toward the door.

"No you're not," She told me, gulping when she saw the menacing glare I sent her way.

"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow at her small body blocking the door. It would only take me a second to move her out of my way.

"That i-isn't y-your job ma'am," Katie stuttered. "Let's see if the COs can do their jobs before you rush out there. You know how many of them would love to get their hands on you."

I stared her down, analyzing her slowly. I could tell she had my best interests at heart, even though she barely knew me.

I gave her a slight nod, stifling a smile when she breathed out a huge sigh of relief.

I need to remember that I'm not a CO. I'm a female warden in one of the state's worst male prisons. I needed to take better care of myself. If not for me, then for my Dad.

"Disregard Code Blue. The situation is under control."

I picked up my walkie talkie, not satisfied with that answer.

"This is Warden Swan," I articulated firmly over the radio. "What were the circumstances?"

It took a minute or two, before one of the many guards on this frequency finally gave me what I wanted to hear. "Uh, miss, we don't really know what started it, but the fight involved one of our more hot-headed inmates. We're taking him to isolation."

"No," I responded negatively back over to him, glancing up to see Katie giving me a questioning look.

"Ma'am?" The voice questioned through the static of the radio.

"Bring 'em to my office, one at a time. Start with the calmer one," I ordered.

"What? That's not what we usually do around here."

"Who am I speaking to?"

"Officer Johns, miss," The man replied, finally giving me a face to his name.

"Well Officer Johns, I'm here to see that things change in this shit hole. So how about you march your ass to my office first, and then have someone else escort the two prisoners here, one at a time from their cells. For now, lock 'em up, so I can deal with you."

"But war-."

"You heard me. That was an order. I don't want to hear your voice again until you're in my office."

I slammed the walkie talkie down on the desk, annoyed with the fact that I not only had to show the inmates who is boss, but the officers as well.

"Bella?" Katie questioned.

"You can just set all of that paperwork in my inbox for now Katie. Seems like I have a subordinate to deal with as well as a couple of fighting inmates, and we're only an hour into my day. It might be a while before I get to it."

With that, I collapsed into my cushioned seat, waiting for Officer Johns to appear in front of me, followed by my first two inmates I'll be meeting one-on-one. To top it off, it sounds like one of them gets into fights often. Well, if you want to fix a place, you needed to start with the biggest problems first.

**Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts! **

**Also, shameless plug: If you haven't, please read my other story "Whatever Will Be, Will Be"! It's also a Paul/Bella, but the plot is much, much different. I will always be updating the stories at the same time—that way I can't play favorites (even though I don't have one). So if one gives me a tough time, I will use the motivation to post the other to push through!**


	3. Problems: Past & Present

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of your kind words in your reviews for the last chapter, and thank you for making this story a favorite or putting it on alert! Sorry for the long wait for an update—first semester of grad school got to me! But I finished my last final yesterday, and am anxiously awaiting grades. Law is kicking my butt! But, as my last assignment is done for now, I am back to updating and writing for you! Hopefully things will come quicker as I'm now on break.**

**Thank you again for reading and please leave a review! ****Getting reviews make my day, and I am not going to be one of those authors who hold updating over your head if you don't review, but I'd really love to get as many as possible!**

**If I don't post before then, Merry Christmas! If you don't celebrate it, Happy Holidays!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it! Anything you recognize belongs to Stephanie Meyer.**

I watched curiously as Officer Johns shuffled his feet behind Katie into my office. I was leaning back with my feet placed on my desk, giving off an air of authority, and because I knew it would piss him off.

I watched as Katie gestured to one of the seats in front of me, and Officer Johns kept his head down, ungracefully plopping into it.

"Officer Johns," I greeted, removing my feet from the table and sitting up straight, scooting myself in to fold my arms on top of my desk.

"Ms.-"

"Warden," I responded strongly. "You'll remember my place and yours."

"Sorry," He mumbled, looking up. "Warden Swan."

I nodded, brushing off his half-assed apology.

"Want to explain again what occurred Officer Johns?" I asked him, wanting to be clear what is going on in my prison.

"Well ma'am," He began in a Southern accent, reminding me of—I shook my head. Not the time or the place. "I was patrolling the yard during the cons' rec time, when I noticed shouts occurring around the weight bench. I don't know what caused any of it, but I saw one of our calm-tempered inmates hit one of our hot-head inmates in the head with one of the dumbbells."

"What?" I screeched. "Why were you going to take the hot-headed one to isolation? Shouldn't he have been headed to the infirmary?"

"He was fine ma'am. It must have only looked like it hit him. He doesn't have a knot or anything. I think he was just swinging at him closely, and never made contact."

I was skeptical, but I nodded anyway. I'd check on him when he came in later. "So were you taking both inmates to isolation?"

"N-no," Officer Johns stuttered. "Just the hothead. It's about the fifth time this month he's been involved in an altercation—he needs to learn a lesson."

"Did you ever consider it to be bad luck? People ganging up on him?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, no, but we're pretty sure-."

"I don't do, 'pretty sure'," I interrupted him, using air quotes. "I'm all for punishment and reforming the inmates, but I do not believe in wrongfully punishing any of them. From now on, I'm the judge of who needs to learn a lesson, got it?"

"But-."

"I said, do you understand?" I gritted my teeth, pausing between each word to make myself clear.

"Yes ma'am," Officer Johns acquiesced. "I just thought you'd like to know how things are done around here."

"Were, Officer. How things were done here. I'm in charge now, and I was hired to change things. So I'm going to start with you. Two weeks suspension without pay, and you're lucky I'm not firing your ass. I can't have my officers being insubordinate, especially over walkie talkies when inmates are around."

"This is bullshit!" Officer Johns exclaimed.

"If you want to go for three weeks, I'm all for it," I leaned back in my chair, glaring at the man across from me. He was really pushing my buttons. "I'd enjoy your two weeks off Mr. Johns," I emphasized Mister, letting him know that for now, he's no longer Officer.

"War-."

"You can go," I waved him off, buzzing my intercom for Katie. She popped in a second later, stopping quickly when she saw Mr. Johns fuming across from me. "Katie, could you please give him to one of the three guards outside of my office and tell him to escort to the correctional officer locker room to collect his belongings, and then off the premises? Thank you. Let me know when the first inmate arrives."

I decided even though I thought the guards didn't know what was really going on around here, I'd still talk to the supposedly calmer inmate first.

"This is Warden Swan. Please escort the first inmate involved in the altercation to my office immediately. Thank you," I announced over the guard walkie talkies.

Fifteen minutes later two guards escorted a rough looking man into my office, complete with shackles on his wrists and ankles, with a chain attaching the two.

"This is inmate number 69360," one of the COs informed me. I quickly pulled the inmate's file up on my computer, thankful he was in the system, as the prison was just beginning to go paperless. Inmates who had been in Washington State Pen for a while were in it, and other than that, nothing.

"I can't believe you're really a chick," the inmate told me, before one of the officers pushed him into a seat across from me.

"You can leave," I informed them both, ignoring the inmate for now.

"Ma'am, it's policy not to leave an inmate alone with the warden," the other officer spoke up.

"Why?" I asked, looking up at them, past the inmate.

"Security purposes," the same officer responded. I really needed to learn names.

I laughed out loud, glancing at the inmate sitting across from me. "Like I said, you can leave."

"But-."

"Leave him shackled if it makes you feel better and get the hell out of my office. You can wait outside the door. You need to stop questioning my fucking authority before I have an entire new staff in here tomorrow. Want to see if I'm bullshitting?" I spoke in the calmest voice I could muster. I cannot be seen as weak or like I am not in charge, especially in front of any inmates.

The two men were speechless, but made the right move of leaving. Maybe they have already heard what happened to Johns—gossip spreads fast in prison, and not just between the inmates.

"Now, where were we?" I turned to look at the inmate across from me. "Ah yes, you were just questioning my gender."

"I've never seen a chick think she can be a warden," the inmate responded.

"Let's see how much of a warden I can be, huh?" I grinned, feeling the authority flood my veins. "Who are you?"

"69360."

"I don't give a shit about your prison number, what's your name?"

"Doesn't that fancy computer tell you?" The smile on his face from his sarcastic retort made me want to slap it off of his face. But I stayed on this side of the desk—for now.

"Yeah, it does. But I was giving you a chance to prove you're more than a prison ID number. Now I see that won't work," I informed him. I was beginning to question the judgment of the COs in this place. This guy is the calm one? If it is true, the other guy is going to give me a migraine before lunch.

He opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. I've had enough of his bullshit already. "You going to tell your side of the story? How you're innocent? How he started it? Maybe how hitting him in the head with a dumbbell was self-defense?"

Again, he opened his mouth to respond, but I stopped him in his tracks with my next words. "Yeah, I bet you do. But you lost that privilege when you started smarting off. So you're going to head to isolation as you were supposed to before I gave you the chance to see me."

I pressed the button, buzzing in the two guards waiting outside.

"Fuck you," the inmate, who I do know from my 'fancy computer' is named Steven, cursed at me.

"Not even in your dreams," I quipped. "Take him to isolation, and bring in the other one."

The two guards left without a word, doing as I ordered.

Katie knocked hesitantly on my half-open door. "Come in," I beckoned.

"War-uh, Bella," Katie began slowly. "I'm not so sure I like being in the reception area of the office when inmates are brought in."

"You work in a prison," I told her, trying to keep the 'duh' tone from my voice.

"But when I took this job, they told me I'd never see an inmate," She nervously responded, twisting her hands.

"Katie, inmates are going to be coming and going from my office. If it makes you uncomfortable, this might not be the job for you."

"Please don't fire me!" She cried. "I really need this job, my sister is-."

"Katie," I held my hand up, urging her to stop. "I promise they will always be in full shackles coming through here, but if that makes you uncomfortable, you can pop in to the break room next door when they are coming and going. Deal?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed, looking like she wanted to hug me. "I'll stay in here for a little longer since they'll be in shackles, but if I get uncomfortable, I'll go to the break room and take work in there in case meetings with the inmates take long, and I promise I'll continue to get things done. I can forward the calls from my desk to the phone in there and-."

"That works," I nodded at her, wondering how she got hired in the first place. But I wasn't about to fire my entire staff in one day—especially not before my receptionist taught me the filing system and where everything in the office is located. How did the previous warden never bring an inmate to his office? No wonder this place is all sorts of out-of-order.

I heard the clanking of shackles heading through the lobby and reception area of the office. "Katie, you might want to head back to your desk now. I think the second one is on his way in."

"Thanks!" She yelled over her shoulder as she rushed hurriedly to what she felt was safety, behind her desk.

I didn't look up when the second inmate was brought in, not wanting to give the supposed hot-head inmate the satisfaction. I pretended to look through some files on my desk.

"This is inmate number 195026," one of the guards informed me, identical to last time. At least they have some protocol right in here.

I didn't bother looking this inmate up in the computer, not wanting to get another smartass remark. Maybe he would be more open to telling me his name if he did not think I already knew it.

"You can leave," I repeated, still pretending to sift through the files.

"But ma'am, this inma-."

I cleared my throat roughly, and they seemed to get the hit, leaving without another word and shutting the door behind him.

"You aren't going to speak up?" I questioned, my voice hard, still looking down, feigning nonchalance.

I was met with complete silence from the other side of my desk. Annoyed, I pulled my head up to scowl at the inmate across from me. He was looking down, his face hardened. I could see the click of his jaw as he grit his teeth, clearly angry and trying to bite his tongue from saying something that he would regret.

My gaze roamed over his face, my eyes growing wider and wider with astonishment and utter shock. I knew this man from a life before.

"Huh," I managed to get out, dumbfounded. "Guess Sam's gang really wasn't up to any good."

Sitting across from me was one of the guys that took my once best friend away. I was far past that, and definitely over it, but it gave me some small satisfaction to see one of them sitting across from me in a jumpsuit and shackles.

"Which hall monitor on steroids are you?"

The man, if it is even possible, growled across from me. "Paul," He snarled. "Paul Lahote."

I could hear his teeth grinding against each other, and he started visibly shaking.

"Can't say I'm surprised to see you here," I smirked. I knew the laughter in my voice would only piss him off more.

His hardened and livid onyx gaze met mine, and his shaking visibly stopped, as his entire form seemed to lighten right in front of my eyes. His face softened, and he looked at me like I hung the moon. A few seconds later, his form was hardened and his shaking began again, though this time it didn't seem as violent.

"You know who I am?" I asked.

"Swan."

"Warden Swan, to you," I annoyingly pointed at my name plate.

"I can think of a few other names for you," Paul bit out, though he seemed to calm almost imperceptibly.

"Like?" I don't know where this banter is coming from, but for some reason I don't want it to stop. I picked up the glass of water Katie put on my desk when I first arrived, taking a sip.

"Leech lover still work for you?"

The next sound I heard was my glass shattering on the linoleum floor. It was Paul's turn to smirk.

**Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

**Also, shameless plug: If you haven't, please read my other story "Whatever Will Be, Will Be"! It's also a Paul/Bella, but the plot is much, much different. **


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